


we know if we go (it's only temporary)

by themazeballet



Category: Inception (2010), Inception (2010) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 13:32:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13272468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themazeballet/pseuds/themazeballet
Summary: Joseph meets Eames at a party.





	we know if we go (it's only temporary)

Lexy cooed as she tucked a pink carnation into Joe's button hole. "You're so dashing," she murmured, kissing his cheek. Joe dimpled, turning to kiss her more deeply and twirl her in her pretty pink taffeta.

"And you, my now love buddy, are fit to be tied," he declared, laughing. "Shit, Lex, you're hot."

She patted his cheek. "You have _such_ a way with words, you silly boy," she said, laughing with him. Joe dipped her and kissed her deeply before straightening them both up.

"Well, let's go and blow some minds, my darling," Joe said, straightening out his tuxedo jacket and holding his arm out for her. Lexy wrapped the faux-fur stole around her shoulders, and placed her fingertips on his elbow, grinning at him. Joe raised an conspiratorial eyebrow and escorted her to their ridiculous white limousine.

\---

Eames couldn't remember the last time he had worn a tux, but he finished it off with a fetching fedora and some black leather gloves, sliding through girls in ridiculous gowns of every style and shape and length, the men all looking fairly interchangeable, except for the ones in red and blue suits (points for style, mates, Eames thought to himself). He stopped to get himself something embarrassingly non-alcoholic and bright green, drinking it as he scanned the dance floor.

Everything was bathed in the red glow of the giant screens, and the band playing was deliciously hip. Eames felt decidedly out of place.

A lady in a pink taffeta dress appeared at his elbow, and Eames blinked at her. She had a large pink feather in her hair, and lace gloves adorned her hands. "Excuse me," she purred, and Eames found himself straightening up.

"Yes, miss?" he asked, and the woman tittered.

"Call me Lexy. May I bother you for a photograph with a group of similarly clad gentlemen?"

Eames looked around the floor. "You mean the whole group of blokes then, don't you?"

Lexy tittered again. It was fetching, and left Eames idly wondering if she was there alone. "Oh no, my fine English sir, I meant with your very alluring fedora." She touched her feather. "It seems that hats and hair pieces have blazed back into style, but we are looking for the most captivating. And you, sir, with your fedora and those fetching leather gloves, are perfectly suited to our photo."

Eames looked at his leather gloves in surprise, and then nodded. "Well then, lead the way, Lexy." His tongue smoothed over her name and Lexy tittered again, marching him to an elaborately set up corner of the room. Since Eames had no real idea about homecomings and proms, he honestly had no idea that this was all supposed to be a wink and a nudge to those high school traditions.

"Joe darling," Lexy called out, and Eames sighed, disappointed. "We have an Englishman!"

Joe turned, grinning. He was wearing a fedora as well, and his smile made Eames's mouth go dry. "Really?" He held out his hand, and Eames clasped it quickly. "Oh, nice gloves, sir. Pretty good ensemble."

"Oh, I am so sorry, I didn't get your name?" Lexy cooed, and Eames licked his lips.

"Danny. Danny Eames, at your service." He pulled his hand away to clasp hers and kiss her knuckles.

"Oh, Joe, you have a rival for my affections now."

"Lexy, I have a rival for your affections everyday but we know how that goes." He kissed her softly and smiled at Eames again, his eyes bright. "Welcome to the party, Danny. Having a good time?"

"But for the distressing lack of alcohol, I am having an absolutely charmed time." Eames scratched his collarbone absently. "I'm a little too old-fashioned, I have to admit."

"No such thing, and yeah, sorry about the lack of booze. All ages event, you see?"

"Oh, well I should probably resist flirting then, shouldn't I?" Eames teased as he sipped his drink. "Your consent laws are draconian."

"I am very well past the age of consent," Lexy replied, touching his arm. "You can flirt with me and Joe all you'd like."

Joe cleared his throat, looking down bashfully. "Lex, I think…"

"Don't think," Eames replied. "Opportunity is my middle name."

Joe and Eames stared at each other for a long moment, until the photographer arrived. The select group of fine headpiece and hat wearing ladies and gentlemen arranged themselves according to his instructions. Eames and Joe stood on either side of Lexy, and her feather created a little barrier between their heads. After the picture, Joe and Eames smirked at each other, and Eames leaned down to kiss one of Lexy's cheeks.

Lexy sighed and kissed his cheek back. "What are you plans for the rest of the evening, Danny?" she whispered, and Eames raised his eyebrow. _Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all_ , he thought idly.

"A return to my hotel room, a leisurely bath, maybe spending scandalous amounts on room service."

"Sounds like a good time," Joe said amiably. "You're welcome to come chill with us at our apartment, though. We might not have lobster, but we have weed."

Eames's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Joe, Lexy, you are superlative hosts, and with a complete stranger, even!" He nodded. "I would love to join you at your flat, because I couldn't ever turn down an invitation to partake of good company and hallucinogenics."

Lexy clapped. "Oh, good," she said, and then looked at the dainty silver watch on her wrist. "Joe, darling, I think it's time for your performance."

Joe leaned close to take a peek at her watch as well, and nodded, straightening up. "In fact, I'm late," he said, and tipped his hat to Eames. "Stick around."

"Oh, I'm planning on it."

+++

Eames had driven his own car. He parked it in the underground garage and went to meet Joe and Lexy in their front lobby, clutching the silver metal briefcase.

"What's that?" Joe asked as they climbed the stairs to his and Lexy's second storey flat. "What are you, some kind of James Bond or something?"

"Oh no, Joe, I am much worse." Lexy gasped theatrically, and Eames gave her his very best dashing smile. "I am who James Bond is looking for."

"The two best bond villains are Alec Trevelyan and Le Chiffre."

"You have no imagination," Eames replied. "Doctor No is miles better."

"You're an old man," Joe teased lightly. "Brosnan is my Bond."

"And Connery shall always be mine." Lexy pulled out a blue key from her little purse and pushed open the door.

Eames was greeted by half IKEA and half disturbingly expensive English leather. Real framed artwork and photos covered the walls, and there was a fantastic spread of expensive electronics in one corner, three screens set up with a synthesiser and an electronic drum kit. Eames spotted a battered but well loved Gibson acoustic.

"Ah, I have stumbled upon the home of a great talent," Eames said, placing the suitcase on the glass coffee table. Lexy gestured toward one of the horrendously expensive sofas and Eames sat down with a sigh as Joe and Lexy scurried to be gracious hosts.

It wasn't long until the bottles of beer were scattered on the table, until Lexy was sprawled in an armchair, one shoe hanging off her foot, sleeping peacefully. Eames and Joe were lazily talking, Joe mostly it should be said, about filming movies and getting into character. Something about Joe's analysis of his 'craft' sound achingly familiar to Eames.

"You're forging someone. Sort of…" He waved his hand, the gloves having come off a long time ago. "Sort of creating a deception."

"Yeah, actually…that sounds about right," Joe agreed amiably.

"Mmm, I do that for a living," Eames said lazily.

"Hey, yeah…does your living have anything to do with what's in that briefcase?"

"Yeah. It's…It's a PASIV."

"…What's a PASIV?"

Eames chewed on his thumbnail for a moment before answering. "It's a machine that helps you create dreams."

"Whoa!" Joe sat up before glancing to make sure his outburst had not woken Lexy. "Seriously? Like, how does it work? Is it dangerous?"

"Well, you have a dreamer and a subject, or multiple dreamers. Uh. The dreamer creates the landscape, usually set up like a maze but not always. Mazes can be anything, you know, a shopping mall or Central Park. And the subject fills the dreamscape with his subconscious." Eames shrugged helplessly. "It's a military technology but I am most definitely not military."

"I see. And is that why James Bond is looking for you?" Joe looked speculatively over the briefcase. "I…I sort of want to try it?"

Eames sat up a little, stretching. "Do you? It involves IV needles and a sedative, and since we are both under the influence of some admittedly quite fine marijuana and beer this might be a little strange."

Joe nodded. "Mmm. I'm feeling a little reckless." He let a little smile trace his mouth, sliding close to Eames. Eames took a deep breath. "Let's go?"

Eames took another deep breath. "Get comfortable."

Eames was proud that his fingers did not shake as he slid the IV into Joe's arm. "I'll be the dreamer," Eames explained. "I sort of know what I'm doing," he added, grinning crookedly. Joe answered with a small huff of a laugh.

It wasn't Eames's most inspired dream. They found themselves on Hampstead Heath, sitting on a bench, watching projections fly kites, walk dogs, and generally enjoy the rare bit of London sunshine. Joe looked around, up and down.

"This feels real," he breathed.

"You can talk normally," Eames said, crossing his legs, and Joe got up, walking around. He turned and looked at Eames, lounging easily against the bench.

"You're…we're in your dream right now?"

"Yes, that's right," Eames replied. "We are experiencing my dream of Hampstead Heath."

Joe turned to look at the London skyline, and Eames got up to stand behind him. When Joe turned around again, he nearly jumped back. Instead of Eames, he was looking at a perfect copy of himself, standing in Eames's lazy slouch. "Shit!"

Eames put his finger to his (Joe's? Joe's head was spinning) lips. "This is what I do," Eames said.

"You…this…"

Eames grimaced and was back in his own skin, before switching to a woman with wavy brown hair and a low-cut red dress. Joe stood and gibbered.

"You…you…you _imitate_ people?" Joe finally managed, and Eames nodded, stepping close.

"It's more than an imitation," Eames said, and his voice was soft, lilting. "I become people."

Joe stepped closer. "Aren't you scared of losing yourself?" He touched Eames's hair, letting the fine strands slip through his fingers.

"I would only be scared of that if I were a weaker-willed person. You don't lose yourself to every role you've ever done, do you?"

"I don't think so," Joe said softly, still looking over Eames's forged face for some sort of recognition. Eames winked, and Joe laughed. "But they all live inside me, all the major ones, that is."

Eames chuckled. "Yes, that's…that's a good way of putting it." He touched Joe's face, and Joe closed his eyes, turned his face into Eames's soft palm.

When he opened them again, Eames was Lexy in a plain white dress, and Joe groaned.

"You're…you're really good," he stammered out and crushed his lips to Eames's. Eames pressed himself close and slid his fingers into Joe's hair, groaning softly. Joe's lips were soft, and he tasted of fresh toothpaste and a little bit of cigarette smoke. His body was warm where it pressed against Eames's adhoc curves, and his teeth felt real as they nipped at Eames's bottom lip. Lexy, Eames decided, was a lucky girl.

When they pulled apart, Eames was back in his own body, and Joe stumbled backwards. "Oh! Shit!" Joe rubbed his face. "I was kissing Lexy."

"Oh, don't worry love," Eames drawled, winking. "What happens in a dream generally stays there, unless it doesn't."

Joe puzzled over that statement, and then grinned. "Except when you need information."

"You're safe, this is just for fun. I'm not looking for anything from you."

Joe looked over Eames's face, at his easy, lazy grin and his crooked teeth and his broad shoulders, and decided to trust him. "Let's walk?"

Eames gestured. "After you, young sir."

When the dream was over, Eames rolled the lines back up, looking at Joe for a long while. "So? What did you think?"

Joe contemplated the PASIV. "How do I know this isn't a dream? Something like this shouldn't exist."

"Man can always believe the impossible, but can never believe the improbable," Eames quoted softly, and then snapped the case shut with a click. "The simple answer is, you'll never know."

\---

Joe awoke the next morning in his bed, with Lexy curled at his side, looking over his face.

"I thought we passed out in the living room," Joe said, kissing her temple.

"Mmm, no, you carried me in here after our gentleman friend left," she replied, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Would it be too much to ask you to make some tea?"

"Never," he said, cupping her face and smoothing his thumb over Lexy's bottom lip before getting up and padding into the living room. He groaned when he saw the bottles scattered on the table. _Our gentleman friend_.

There was a business card sitting next to the bottles. Joe picked it up; it was thick stock with raised brown letters. It simply stated, _Daniel Eames_ and underneath the name, _London, England_. Joe flipped it over, and on the back was scrawled a phone number and a little note.

_Believe._

**Author's Note:**

> title from "stranger things" by local natives. written for [](https://inception-kink.livejournal.com/profile)[**inception_kink**](https://inception-kink.livejournal.com/) prompt found [here](http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/9327.html?thread=16738159#t16738159).


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